


Eggs for Ducks

by shamusandstone (theleaveswant), theleaveswant



Category: Leverage
Genre: Boats and Ships, Crack, Ducks & Geese, Gen, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-29
Updated: 2009-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/shamusandstone, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"HARDISON GIVE ME A SANDWICH NOW."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eggs for Ducks

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt "two characters go out on a rowboat and one of them packed sandwiches and they're egg salad sandwiches but the other one doesn't even like egg salad. Also, they feed their crusts to the ducks" from 's [ridiculously specific prompt table](http://cruiscin-lan.livejournal.com/40823.html). I put three characters in the rowboat. Gross-talk warning for farts and placenta-eating.

Eliot scoffed when Hardison suggested they take a break before Parker's dive. “What the hell do you need to take a break from? I didn't see you just scull three people into the middle of a big-ass lake.”

“I was busy with the thing!” Hardison gestured at the gadgets in his lap (GPS, depth detector, and something else Eliot tuned out the explanation for). “I said I'd take a turn on the way back, I will. I just thought this's a nice spot for a picnic, what with all the, y'know, nature and whatever.” He waved an arm at the golden trees encircling the lake and the bright blue sky mirrored on its surface. The boat rocked a little and he pulled the arm tight against his torso. “I brought sandwiches.”

“What kind?” Parker said from the bow.

“I thought you weren't supposed to eat within half an hour of going swimming.” Eliot locked the oars in their gunnels.

“Egg salad.”

“Egg?” Parker sounded horrified.

“You don't like it?”

“I'm supposed to sneak past a half-dozen armed guards in about eight hours, remember? You can't feed me egg salad before a job like that.”

“Point taken.” Eliot said, tugging his toque further down over his ears, eager to forestall her elaboration.

“You might as well just pour a whole boiled cabbage down my throat.”

“Okay, I get it, no eggs before sneakytime.” Hardison held up his hands placatingly.

“You know I spent six months training myself not to sneeze? That's a lot of wasted effort just for some over-cologned unibrow with a plastic badge to hear my rumbly tummy, or better yet smell my butt breath.”

“Parker!” Eliot snapped, looking at her over his shoulder. “Seriously. We got it.”

“Seriously.” Hardison agreed. “How about you, Eliot? Sandwich?”

“No, I brought my own lunch.”

“Really?” Hardison pouted.

“It's just some leftovers.” Eliot opened his backpack, unpacking a bento box on his knee. He blushed a little when he noticed Hardison staring enviously at his seared tuna, kappa maki, and shrimp and vegetable tempura.

“You cooked that?” Hardison asked.

“You and I have different skill-sets. Edamame?” He offered Parker, who snatched a pod and popped the whole thing into her mouth. Eliot tried not to watch the alarming writhing of her cheeks as she sucked out the beans and spat the shell over the side of the boat.

“Can I have some?”

“What about your sandwiches?”

“Tell you the truth man, I don't even like egg salad that much either, and I just--”

“HARDISON GIVE ME A SANDWICH NOW,” Parker said urgently.

“What for?” They'd known her long enough that Hardison hardly looked disturbed or even surprised.

“ _Ducks_ ,” she hissed. Eliot glanced around and sure enough, a brown mallard hen was paddling towards the boat, trailing eight downy babies.

“You can't feed eggs to a duck!” Hardison frowned.

“I'm going to give them the crusts,” Parker made grabby motions with her hands.

Hardison rolled his eyes and handed a bagged sandwich to Eliot, who passed it on.

“What's wrong with feeding a duck eggs anyway?” Parker grew suddenly serene as she tore off tiny chunks of bread and dropped them onto the water where the ducks lunged and tilted back their heads to swallow them down.

“It's just wrong, bruh. Like frickin' cannibalism or somethin'.”

“What, are they duck eggs?” Eliot asked, deftly chopsticking a battered prawn.

“No, they're regular eggs. But it's still gross.”

“But would that even count as cannibalism? I mean, an egg's basically like a placenta, right? And lots of animals eat their own placentas. Cats do it.”

Eliot shook his head. “Egg white's the placenta. Yolk is like the food supply for the little birdie foetus, on account of there's no umbilical cord.”

“And you call _me_ creepy,” Hardison muttered, scowling at one of the remaining sandwiches and dropping it back in his bag.

“So is it cannibalism or not? I mean if there's, like, an ugly little baby bird in there, sure, but--” she broke off when the mama duck interjected a stream of chiding quacks. “Oh aren't you just so cute! You're also very high in cholesterol, aren't you? Aren't you?”

Eliot snorted. “You fail at baby-talk.”

“Babies are weird. It's not like the ducks speak English, anyway. I can tell them whatever I want.”

Hardison sighed loudly. “Can we just get this dive over with so we can go back to the hotel?”

“What's your hurry?” Eliot grinned. “This is such nice spot for a picnic.”


End file.
